


You’re Not Alone In The Dark

by xvivon



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Batfamily, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, just a lil bit sprinkled in :P
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xvivon/pseuds/xvivon
Summary: A group of bats is called a cauldron, even in their darkest hours, they’ll never be alone.Or, Alfred bonding with members of the batfamily.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37
Collections: Batfam Big Bang 2020





	You’re Not Alone In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> My BBB fic, good grandparent Alfred Pennyworth bonding with Bruce and all the batkids. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also a huge thank you to my wonderful artists and betas! I’ll be listing them and their tumblrs here.
> 
> Artists:
> 
> Cess - [wiitts-art](https://wiitts-art.tumblr.com/)  
> Lucy - [houser-of-stories](https://houser-of-stories.tumblr.com/)  
> Cai - [bisexualoftheblade](https://bisexualoftheblade.tumblr.com/)  
> Lynn - [bittlebarnes](https://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)  
> Jas - [Jassus](https://jassus.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Betas:
> 
> Rob - [nycis](https://nycis.tumblr.com/)  
> Lucy - [houser-of-stories](https://houser-of-stories.tumblr.com/)  
> Cai - [bisexualoftheblade](https://bisexualoftheblade.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to the artists for their wonderful works that brought my dumb fic to life, and thank you to the betas that made this fic coherent. And to Jay for the synopsis, I was just gonna take the last two lines and call it a day, this is so much better hjdhjdhjd.

**_ Bruce _ **

It was supposed to be a movie. _Just a movie._ It turned out to be so much more. The most elite in Gotham were out for a movie. Thomas and Martha Wayne, and their son Bruce. They set out, and were enjoying themselves. 

They decided to attend the late eventing showing of The Mark of Zorro. A movie their son was sure to enjoy. Zorro was his hero. 

The movie came and went, the theater began to close, and the Wayne’s were looking for a way home. Thomas decided it would be a good idea to cut through an alleyway, little did they know, Crime Alley would be the last area they’d ever step.

Bruce was enamored with the movie, he kept going on and on about his idol. If only the night had stayed that way. If only, they’d turned around and hailed a cab. If only they’d chosen differently.

On that fateful night a man, one by the name of Joe Chill, was looking to make a quick buck. And who better to rob than the richest family in Gotham? 

_They heard the cock of a gun._

“Hands in the air,” called a hoarse voice. They were in shock, what was happening?

It was a blur. A blur of pleas and demands. Of fear, and of bullets. Bruce heard his mother’s pearls drop onto the cold concrete of Crime Alley.

_5._

_“Please, please don’t hurt him.”_

_4._

_“Here, take what you want but please-“_

_3._

_“Bruce, stay behind me.”_

_2._

_“Please...”_

_1._

**_BANG!_ **

And then, Bruce’s world was shattered. _Just like Martha Wayne’s pearl necklace._

That’s what started it.

_Death._

Before he knew it, there were two detectives standing in the alleyway. The one that approached him looked young. Maybe a rookie detective, as if the job hadn’t eaten him alive yet. The second one trailed behind the first, doing anything but make eye contact with the young boy.

They- well he, as only the one cop was questioning him, asked him a few questions.

_“What happened?”_

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Do you know them?”_

He couldn’t tell you how long it went on for, it was almost as if time had stopped. His sense of perception was extremely dulled.

_He almost didn’t notice the familiar old man in the coat walking towards him-_

Soon enough, he was enveloped in the loving arms of his caretaker, butler, and close friend, Alfred.

“Come on son, let’s go home.”

_Grief was an understatement..._

It hurt so much and yet, at the same time, he felt numb. He felt guilty, he wanted to do something other than watch his parents bleed out at his side. He just couldn’t-

He was just a kid, kids can’t be much help in a situation like that. He would love to help others in that same situation, maybe when he’s older...

_Knock knock._

“Come in,” 

“Master Bruce, I do believe it is time for young boys like you to get some sleep.”

“I’ll be fine Alfred, I have to keep looking into the case.”

“Master Bruce, you are not a detective. In fact Detective Gordon assures me, he will be working this case until its completion. Now, you, need to rest. You’ve been up all night sitting at this desk.”

He couldn’t help but be disappointed, the Gotham police force was so corrupt, he can’t imagine such a high profile case like his parents’ being solved by them. But, if he did his own investigation...

_Maybe he’d have a shot._

“Master Bruce, I know you’re mourning the loss, we all are. But, this is just not healthy. Now go to sleep, son,”

_He wasn’t able to sleep that night._

Not when he could be solving the identity of the masked man in that alley. Not when he could be preventing more deaths. Not when he could be getting justice for his parents. Not when he could be doing something productive.

He snuck into his father’s office that night, as tossing and turning in his bed wouldn’t be much help. It was a stupid thought, but scanning through his board of pins and notes, he decided to look through the bookshelf for clues.

So there he was, two o’clock in the morning and pitch black outside, tearing books from the walls.

He started at the top and worked his way down. Not long after that the first bookshelf’s contents had been tossed onto the floor. He’d been doing this for around forty minutes or so before he felt someone else’s presence.

That presence cleared their throat.

_Ahem._

He froze, what should he do now? It’s long past his bedtime, and he just made a mess of his father’s neatly put together office.

“Master Bruce, what might you be doing?”

“Oh Alfred, I was uh, looking for clues in the books. There has to be _something_ here.”

“Master Bruce we’ve been over this, leave the detective work to the detectives.”

“But they haven’t found anything yet! If I’m working on the case, at least we can be productive.”

“Not without getting some rest and school work done first, you’re not.”

He was disappointed, he figured Alfred would maybe understand. If Gordon hasn’t found anything, and they want to close the case, the GCPD won’t be solving his parents murder. If he tried to though...he’d maybe have a chance.

“Besides, if you're not actively looking for clues outside the manor, you’ll never get anything done.”

That is true, just rummaging around in his dad’s office wouldn’t help if he couldn’t interrogate suspects or investigate outside the manor. 

“What if I were to go out and look?”

“No, you’d get yourself killed.”

“Not if I can defend myself.”

“You don’t know how,”

“Then teach me!”

Alfred looked to the side at that, he really seemed to be considering it.

“Alright then, go get some rest and in the morning, I might teach you a few things.”

_Wait was he really going to-_

“Okay! Goodnight Alfred.” Bruce said with stars in his eyes.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t got much sleep that night, all that mattered to him is soon he’d be getting justice.

  
  
  
  


**_Dick_ **

_The pure terror in his eyes must’ve done it. The feeling of helplessness, knowing there truly is nothing he could do._

_As the trapeze snapped, they fell. And they fell far._

_The Flying Grayson’s were a close-knit acrobatic family, performing at Haly’s Circus. They loved their jobs. John, Mary, and their son Richard were happy._

_Though that would soon change._

_It started because of crime boss Tony Zucco, and Mr. Haly’s failure to pay protection money. Sabotaging circus acts wasn’t unheard of, because this is Gotham, though it wasn’t expected._

_The show was going so smoothly. All the performers were doing their acts perfectly, the audience was loving it, almost too good to be true._

_It was._

_The “star performers” were just about to start their act, approaching the trapeze._

_John had just swung from one of the platforms, Mary following close behind. Their son watched in awe. He would never get tired of this. Just as Dick was preparing to join them, and Mary held out her hands to him-_

**_SNAP!_ **

_It was hard to make sense of. They had done this act so many times before. Nothing like this had ever happened. Why now? Why to them? His parents, his loving, caring, wonderful parents; were falling to their deaths._

_And all he could do was watch._

_He wanted to do something, anything, anything other than watch them die. You can’t always get it your way though can you?_

_“Dick-”_

_His mother looked so helpless, the audience looked so helpless, he looked so helpless._

_Why them?_

The sweat dripping from his forehead paired with his erratic breathing, made him feel uneasy. It was far past sunset, leaving the boy in his bed. This wasn’t a rare occurrence anymore. Memories of their deaths will always haunt him, especially in his dreams.

Not long after having him there, the Butler began to notice his night terrors. Though, Richard never talked about them. It was always something along the lines of his parents’ passing. The fall, or the audiences’ collective gasp. Maybe it was of the funeral, of the raindrops landing harshly against dark umbrellas everyone needs to carry to mourn the rain.

Their deaths were still fresh, new, full of hurt. Time hadn’t dulled the pain yet. Sitting at the breakfast table with him proved it. You could feel the sadness radiating off of the child.

Alfred, it being a skill of his, was able to pick up on what the nightmares were about. And, he wasn’t about to let the child suffer alone.

When Bruce’s parents died, Alfred was all he had. So naturally, the Butler grew better at comforting distressed children.

“Master Richard, are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine, Alfred” he mumbled

Setting down the two cups of tea, he stared at the boy. His eyes were puffy and red as if he had recently been crying. Most certainly not alright. Still, he waited for the boy to speak.

The dining area went quiet for a moment, neither of them speaking.

“I- I miss them,”

“I know, I know lad.”

The boy looked like he needed a distraction. And what better distraction than making cookies? Alfred got up to prep the oven and needed materials.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making a batch of cookies, would you like to help?”

Dick’s face lit up as he ran towards the kitchen. “Sure!”

“Well then, go get the whisk and wait at the counter.”

He gathered all of the ingredients, the boy had a big toothy grin on his face. _Who knew cookies could solve everything?_

He gathered the bowl, rubber spatula, and dropped those over on the counter near Dick and the whisk. Then, trotted over towards the fridge to grab the milk, eggs, and butter. He turned around and saw the young master got into the chocolate chips.

_Oh boy..._

Reaching for the flour, sugar, and brown sugar containers, he also got out a recipe so Richard could follow along. “Now, could you preheat the oven to three hundred and fifty degrees? You should always do that first.”

“Okay Alfie!” The boy said, still grinning. The missing scissor tooth really added to the childlike charm of it all.

He grabbed the room temperature butter and placed it in a bowl, Richard magically appearing at his side. “Master Richard if you would be so kind to pass me the measuring cups,”

“Here you go,”

“Thank you,” He said with a smile.

He scooped up three fourths cups of white sugar and placed it into the butter filled bowl., before Richard interrupted with an insightful request. 

“You’re using the wrong sugar, and can I stir the bowl?” 

He stared at the boy for a moment, then looked at the bowl and back at Richard. Hmm.

“Very well, you may be in charge of the wet ingredients, I shall handle the dry bowl.”

The boys grin got wider, he seemed very eager to enjoy the sweet. Running to the other side of the counter, Dick grabbed the steal bowl and shiny whisk. While Alfred focused on measuring out the flour, salt, and baking powder. 

The day seemed to get brighter and brighter as they went along, the sun peaked through the clouds more, and the grass became all the bit greener.

As Richard cracked an egg into the bowl, there was visibly some shell in the mix. That would not do.

“Master Richard, there seems to be some egg shell in your bowl. Here, do it like this.” He takes the other egg and demonstrates how to properly crack an egg to the boy.

“Ohhhhhh,” 

The next moments passed in a blur of chocolate chips, melted butter, and messes. They mixed the wet ingredients into the dry, and balled the batter onto a pan. Soon after, placing it into the oven for forty minutes.

As they waited, they prepared new plates to place the cookies on, and washed the dirty ones. Richard finally looked at ease as he licked the excess batter from the whisk. 

Taking the cookies out of the oven, a wave of heat and chocolaty goodness passed over them. He could hear Bruce approaching the kitchen. “Broose, Alfie and I made cookies!”

_And they enjoyed the cookies, the sweetness of it keeping away any unwanted thoughts._

  
  
  


**_ Tim _ **

The glaring light of the computer illuminated the Batcave. It stung his eyes, but he didn’t mind. There alone, sat Tim. It was around 3 AM, give or take. He was working on a case or two...maybe three. _Or was it four?_ He couldn’t remember, he’d been in this seat so long, it’d be a miracle if he could stand.

_Ah coffee..._

He took another sip of the only reason he was still functioning. It was a bit hard to focus, but work needed to be done. Who would protect these people if not him? And not Dick, or Jason, or Bruce, or Damian, or Cass-

He needed to _focus._

This crime took place near that one ice cream place he and Steph used to visit together. _How is Steph doing?_

He hasn’t spoken to her in a while, maybe he should do that. The last time they spoke was what, two months ago? His phone is right there, maybe he will...

_Focus Tim, dammit._

Okay so, the five crooks robbed a bank near the...near the-

_Maybe he should get some sleep?_

Ha, no. That’s stupid, he needs to focus. To work. These cases need to be completed, his goals said so. If they robbed a bank near that ice cream place he enjoys, and a witness says they went down that one alley in the back of that old magazine place, then...

_Was the screen always this bright?_

The cup of coffee tasted bitter in his mouth. He drinks coffee without cream, that only dilutes it. And unlike certain people, Dick, he drinks it for the energy boost, not the taste. He glanced down at the mug. There wasn’t that much left, and it’d been sitting there awhile, maybe he should make some more...

That’d be productive! He will go do that, return to his cases, solve them, and then-

_Well, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it..._

Stumbling slightly, he got out of his chair. Ugh, he’s better than this. 

_C’mon Tim, standing isn’t that hard._

He makes his way to the kitchen, stepping through the dark hallways of Wayne Manor. Careful not to wake anyone up, though he doubted all of them are asleep.

He can barely see in the kitchen, so naturally, he bumps into the corner of a counter and then trips over his own foot.

Ow.

Where is- oh. Okay, he was on the wrong side of the room. He opens the cabinet, grabs a mug, and fills it. With nothing apparently, because he forgot to make the coffee. He better do that…

He makes the coffee, and _now,_ he fills the mug with the beverage. The liquid shows the moonlight pouring in from the window pooled at the center of it. 

“Ahem,” the sound startles Tim so badly he almost dropped his coffee.

“Master Timothy, I do believe it is a bit late for caffeine?”

He stares at the man for a moment, gathers his words, or lack of them.

“I-I’m fine, Alfred,”

The butler agrees with a nod. Tim can sense sarcasm radiating off of him.

He heads back down to the cave, fresh coffee in hand. 

Okay, he’s got his coffee, now it’s time to get back to work. Is that a bug? He stares at the floor where a speck of something lays. Is that a bug? It sure looks like one. 

“Master Timothy,” a stern British voice awoke him from his haze. _How long has he been there?_

“Yeah Alfred?” He mumbled, still fixated on the possible insect.

“Sir, I do believe you are in need of some rest.”

“I’m fine Alfred. Just, just one more case.”

“Master Tim, you’ve been staring at the floor for the last fifteen minutes. You might as well as sleep.”

Really? Fifteen minutes? 

“I’m fine Alfred. I’m only working on locating a few thieves, it’ll probably take an hour or two.” 

“There’s no winning with you, Master Timothy. Very well, but you’ll need to sleep eventually.”

“I will Alf, I will.”

It doesn’t take long before he downed all of his coffee, which left him a limited window of time to where he can still be well… functional. He could already feel his eyelids becoming heavy.

He comes to the conclusion that the thieves went downtown and are hiding in some obscure location. Though, after five days of no sleep, that theory should probably be taken with a grain of salt.

And in this cycle of being productive, getting distracted, then lost in his thoughts, then drinking more coffee, he’s back at the distracted part.

There’s a streak of light reflecting off of the glass uniform cases. Would that make a cool picture? His camera is on his dresser in the Manor, that’s not _too_ far away.

Taking pictures is fun, he could-Why is he like this? He almost slammed his head into the keyboard. 

_He needs to STOP. GETTING. DISTRACTED._

This case appeared impossible...he’ll never solve it in this state of mind. 

_He needs, he needs-_

Not that long after his last visit, Alfred appeared behind him. Only this time he’s holding a hot chocolate?

Why would Alfred be giving him that? Doesn’t he want him to sleep? No matter, he really, really needs it.

“Master Tim, I figured you could use a drink, and I already have some left over.”

“Uh, thanks Alfred.”

The cocoa was soothing, supposed to get him to sleep, he didn’t notice. He barely noticed himself drifting off into nothingness. Succumbing to sleep. He didn’t notice being removed from the cave and relocated into his bedroom.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how he got there. He can only guess someone carried him. 

Walking into the kitchen for his morning coffee and maybe some breakfast, he and Alfred don’t acknowledge the late switch in rooms. The Butler only sends him back to his room for more sleep. So, that’s what he does. If he doesn’t finish all those cases, then someone else will. Or maybe he will get to them later.

_But, right now, sleep is most important._

  
  
  


**_ Damian _ **

The soft sound of rain pattering against the window made for soothing background noise. It was a somewhat stormy evening, Damian was seated at his desk sketching his dog, Titus.

It hadn’t been the most kind week to him. The majority of patrols hadn’t been very successful. His father seemed to be paying less and less attention to him. And, on top of it all, he had gotten into a fight with Jon last night.

Superboy hadn’t listened to him, and Jon had almost gotten injured because of it. He wouldn’t have that, especially if it could be easily prevented. So, he told Jon. And maybe he was a bit harsh, but that hadn’t mattered to him in the moment. Jon didn’t take it well, and decided to be rude back. The argument ended with both boys spewing unkind things to each other, before Jon took off.

When he arrived back home, his father wasn’t there. Though this wasn’t out of character for him. Bruce’s presence has not been frequent these past few months.

Art has always been a hobby of his, and sketching Titus in particular, was very...fun.

He’s currently shading in the nose, and while Grayson would describe it as a masterpiece of sorts, to him it’s just another page of his sketchbook he drew Titus on.

It’s very peaceful, as no one is really in the manor at the moment. Just him, Drake, and Alfred.

He was taking advantage of that, though the loneliness was starting to creep in. Titus began to move from his spot on the rug, and Damian took that as his cue to take a much needed break.

The hallways always seemed barren recently, with almost no one occupying the manor. Still, it looked as clean as ever.

He walked past all the familiar portraits lining the walls. Past the old furniture and vacated rooms.

_Maybe he should go make some tea?_

Tea is a very relaxing beverage and would be perfect for the rainy weather. Yes, some green tea with honey would be great.

The kitchen is empty, in exception of Alfred. The man seemed to be boiling water. Perfect, Damian can use some of it for his tea. He crossed the room to the cupboard, reaching for the small box containing the tea bags, then the one to the right of it that holds the mugs.

“Good afternoon, Master Damian,”

“Hello, Pennyworth,”

Mingling has never been a strong suit of his, so he wasn’t sure for how long this conversation would go on for. His train of thought takes a turn back towards his and Jon’s fight last night.

Their patrol started out well enough, though like the other ones they’d done that week, ended not so well…

_They had been infiltrating one of Luthor’s bases, and it needed to go as Damian planned. They wouldn’t have another chance for a while._

_“Why are we even here?” Jon questioned him._

_“We need to get some information from Luthor’s tech, which is why we must enter the base and retrieve said information.”_

_“Are you sure Batman wants us to do that? I mean, that’s my dad’s Joker, why would he put two kids up against-”_

_“Shush.” Damian demanded._

_“Humph hrmmrper...”_

_They heard a noise, a subtle bang followed by the thumping of armored footsteps. It must’ve been Luthor, who else would wear full body armor just to walk in a hallway? They were hidden, but not well enough. Any moron with eyes and enough brains to check behind a table could easily spot them._

_They needed to move._

_Damian quietly shifted, motioning for Jon to follow him. They were going to need to find another hiding spot and fast. Jon was oblivious, it took what felt like an eternity to notice Damian’s change in position._

_Damian all but grabbed him as they silently ran behind the office furniture to a new, better location._

_They had to make their way to his main computer, that must be where he stores everything._

_Damian made the turn but Jon, clueless as ever, continued in the wrong direction. If he wasn’t being so discreet, Damian might have facepalmed._

_Why is Jon acting so off tonight?_

_“Superboy.” He whispered, as Jon ignored him._

_“Superboy,” he repeated, a bit more forcefully._

_He heard the footsteps again, this couldn’t be good. Damian looked up to see Lex Luthor rounding the corner, right in front of Jon._

_Oh no..._

_“Superboy, move!” Damian shouted at him._

_Jon snapped back to reality just in time to realize what was happening. ThHe look on his face, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He didn’t stay frozen though, actually, he ran to Damian almost immediately._

_Damian ran down the other hallway, Jon chasing after him. Lex looked, to be frank, pissed._

_“What are you boys doing here?!” Yeah, he was definitely pissed._

_“Uh, hi sir we’re just-”_

_“Here to collect your data.” Damian said, as he once again, took off running._

_Jon decided to follow behind without any instruction from Damian, yay him._

_“Where are we even going?!” Jon whisper-yelled._

_“To Lex’s main computer room.”_

_“Wha- NO, WE ARE NOT.”_

_“Oh, but we are,” Damian replied, stepping into the screen-filled room._

_The room was flooded with bright computer light, in an otherwise dim area. Damian assigned himself the task of scanning through the computer, while Jon kept watch for Lex._

_“Why are we here? Can’t Barb-”_

_“Oracle,” Damian interrupted._

_“Right. Can’t Oracle just hack her way into to the computer? And collect all the info you need? Can’t we just leave?” Jon asked, poking his head outside the doorframe._

_Damian shot up from his seat in Luthor’s chair, “Get away from there, you’ve already risked us too many times tonight. Just keep a lookout, it’s not that difficult.”_

_Jon looked upset, but ultimately kept his mouth shut, silently watching for their enemy._

_They were able to get all they needed and leave without another incident with Lex. But still, it could have gone very badly for them._

Though Damian does the same thing when he’s woken out of his haze by the whistling teapot. He looked over to see Pennyworth lifting the hot kettle, and pouring some of the water into a china cup.

“You were going to make yourself some tea, yes?” Alfred asked.

“Yes, I was.” 

With the home being mainly empty, and the relationship with his father strained, Damian had a hard time conversing in the manor. Even if it was his home, too.

After Alfred set the kettle down, Damian picked it up, pouring its contents into his smaller teacup. 

The butler obviously noticed Damian’s glum mood, after all these years he’s able to spot an upset child better than anyone.

“Is something troubling you, lad?” He asked.

“I’m fine.”

_He didn’t look very fine..._

“Would you like to join me for a game of chess?”

Damian looked up at him, pondering his question. “...sure, that would be nice.”

And so Alfred went to retrieve the chess set, before they both sat down and started the match. It was going along smoothly, even though Alfred was winning, Damian was still having a nice time. 

“Where’s father?” Damian asked.

The man looked up at him, “Your father is…busy,”

“With what?” He tried to sound blunt, but it was pitiful.

“You know what he’s doing.” The man said, moving a chess piece.

Damian looked down at that, unfortunately, he did know.

_And it hurts._

The game was getting more intense, nearing the endgame. Though Alfred was winning, and Damian was getting frustrated, it was still very fun.

_And distracting..._

Alfred could tell the boy wanted to win, it was almost a constant with Damian. And after the week he’s had...maybe he would let him.

So when they were down to their final moves, and the clock was ticking, he let the boy win. _And the smile on his face was worth the loss._

  
  
  


**_ Plus one _ **

**_Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-_ **

She woke up to the loud sound of her alarm, just like any other day. Except today, she was staying at the manor, and everyone was there. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only loud thing that woke her up.

“DRAKE FOR THE LAST TIME, I HAVE THE FRUIT SALAD!”

“OH NO YOU DON’T, DEMON BRAT-“

_Heh, that’s...fun._ Still, a normal occurrence for the Wayne family.

“Oh c’mon Dami, Tim, be nice to each other...” Said a tired Dick Grayson as he passed her doorway.

_She’ll never get a good night's sleep in the same house as these people..._

Deciding to get ready for her day, she checked her notifications, changed her outfit, and walked out the door into a sibling brawl over...a fruit salad.

_Goddamnit Tim-_

Approaching the debacle, she saw that they were indeed fighting over breakfast, and then pondered whether she should take action.

_Nah, this is too funny._

So she took a seat, and placed bets on who would win with Jason. 

“Why are they arguing over that anyway?” She asked.

He shrugged, before someone else answered for him.

“Oh, Alfie’s sick, and they have to bring him his breakfast. Well, one of them does anyway.” Dick replied. “That reminds me, Bruce said you, Cass, and Duke have to take care of the laundry.”

“Okay, we’ll get that done...eventually.” She said just as Cass magically appeared at the table. 

“Hey Cass.”

Cassandra gave her a smile in return. 

“Why are we doing the laundry?” Duke asked, it’s a wonder none of them - well, in exception of Cass - didn’t notice him. 

_Are they rising up out of the floor boards or something-_

“GRAYSON TOLD _ME,_ IT’S MY DUTY TO DELIVER PENNYWORTH HIS BREAKFAST!” Damian shouted, most likely at Tim.

“YEAH PIPSQUEAK? WELL HE TOLD ME THAT TOO, AND I HAVE THE SALAD. IN MY HAND SO, MY JOB.” 

_Yeah, definitely at Tim_.

Dick signed in exhaustion, with Alfred sick, he’s been the one keeping the manor together, Bruce could never.

_Looks like Dick’s idea of “brotherly bonding” between the two isn’t going too well._

“Boys, fight nice,” he sounded like a tired mother. As Dick went to go find the arguing boys, Cassandra appeared at her side, along with Duke. 

“Okay, first we gotta get whatever laundry soap detergent thingy we need to do the laundry. And then we have to… actually do it. Any chance you guys know how?” She relayed the to-do list before asking.

Duke and Cass shook their heads.

_Okay, then. Guess they’ll have to wing it._

As they made their way down to the laundry room, they passed the Tim versus Damian fight taking place in the main hall.

“DRAKE-”

“JUST. GIVE. IT. BRATLING.” Tim shouted in response.

They casually walked past, Steph and Cass sparing no glances, and Duke stumbling behind with his jaw on the floor. 

“Uh, are we gonna, you know, help them?” Duke asked, his eyes filled with concern as he watched his brothers froth at the mouth.

Steph turned around to observe again, she watched Damian yank some of Tim’s hair out, heard Tim yell about ‘his new bald spot.’

_They’re probably fine..._

“Nah, they’re good.” She responded.

“Uh, you sure?”

“Yeah, they’ll be fine.”

They continued on, leaving the feral brothers be. When they reached the laundry room, Cass set the many clothes on top of the small dark table.

“Okay, and when we finish this load, we’ll be done!” Steph announced.

“Are you forgetting Bruce is trying to start his own football team?” Duke interrupted.

“So many people live here, these are just from Tim’s emo phase.”

“Bold of you to assume that phase ever ended.” She replied. 

Cass dumped the edgy clothes into the laundry machine, along with some undergarments and formal wear.

_They’ve got this._

Duke hesitantly added the soap into the washer, he had never done this before, Alfred always took care of the laundry for them. 

_Why couldn’t they bring him the breakfast that Jason made? That’s so much easier than this._

As they all waited, they wondered how Alfred was doing. He barely ever took daystakes off, especially for sickness. And if he’s too tired to make himself breakfast...

_Hopefully he’s okay..._

This task turned out being extremely boring, they had nothing to do but wait. So they figured it’d be more fun to harmonize. 

Cass stood by the dryer- as it wasn’t in use- and opened it quickly, before slamming it shut. She continued this rapidly and repeatedly. Steph accompanied her, by choosing to take two pens and play drums with the laundry soaps. Duke joined in the chaos, picking up a washing board, as he fiddled with it. 

They were just starting to get the hang of it before the load finished.

**_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-_ **

Huh, kinda sounds like her alarm clock tone, oh well. They emptied the contents, only to discover...

_They done fucked up._

All of Bruce’s shirts were different shades of pink and purple, Tim’s hoodie seeming to be the culprit. Those were his formal shirts, the fancy ones he wore to “casual” W.E meetings. Apparently those meetings were going to be a lot more casual from now on.

“Uhhhh”

“Did we just-”

“Yeah, yeah we did.”

_Well fuck..._

Maybe they’d be able to save this mission. They quickly threw more clothes into the machine. 

Cassandra did all the heavy lifting, literally, as she poured the soap in with the load. Maybe a bit too much soap...Oh well, they have to go fast, it’s already almost noon, and Bruce will have to be leaving in a freshly washed purple shirt soon.

They raced up the stairs, Duke dropping some socks on the way. They, once again, passed the battle of the brats taking place outside of Alfred’s door.

_At least they moved a bit._

They burst into the butler’s room and shoved Bruce’s laundry into his arms. The man must have been going nuts by now, wondering where his work clothes were.

“What is this?” Bruce asked them.

“Your laundry,” 

He sighed, “Why is it pink and purple?”

“...because we were having trouble.”

He shared the same expression as Dick had earlier, Steph named it the ‘I wanna be mad at you but I’m too tired for this shit’ face.

Tim and Damian rolled into the room in a heap of mutual anger and fruit salad.

“Here’s your-” Tim started.

“Here is your breakfast Pennyworth.” Damian said, as he snatched the salad from Tim’s hands.

“Uh, brat.” 

“Hmph.”

_They heard a swishing noise._

It was a small quiet thing, like when you think you hear something before bed. Or when you’re sitting at the kitchen table and think you hear something fall, only for it all to be fine.

But Bruce’s paranoia gets to all of them once in a while. “Did you all shut the washer off when you finished?” He asked.

_Oh fuck-_

No, no they did not. They completely forgot, and their forgetfulness plus the extra soap Cass poured in, was going to bite them all in the ass.

The ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ look flashed across Bruce’s face.

_They were so screwed..._

Steph raced down the stairs, Duke close behind, hoping maybe they were all just hearing things. Unfortunately, all of their ears were working perfectly fine. The laundry, on the other hand, was not fine. It seems to have flooded, maybe in their hurry they hadn’t shut the machine door properly. The floor was covered in water and bubbles, their soaked clothes spilling out onto the tile.

_How were they going to fix this?_

The rest of them rushed down there, in exception of Jason, who was tired of their bullshit, and just wanted to bake.

Bruce, in true tired dad form, looked at the messy pile on the floor, and stared at it.

He sighed, “Do I want to know?”

“No.”

Alfred interrupted them, “Thank you all for the help, I’m not particularly feeling well today, and you all have been very helpful doing my chores.”

They all responded at once, it came out a mess of “Thank you”s and “You’re welcome”s. Then they all came in for a hug, it was sweet.

_Because even in the dark,_

_They know they’ll never be alone._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y’all! So this is the most I’ve ever written, and it took a while and was kinda hard, but I met so many amazing people that are very helpful and encouraging! So here we are! Really glad I signed up for this, I have a huge online family now heh heh. I hope y’all like almost 6k of Batfamily bonding. And don’t forget to drink some water. Have a great morning/afternoon/night 
> 
> bbbbyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!!!!
> 
> Go bother me on tumblr - [xvivon](https://xvivon.tumblr.com/)


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